Snarry-a-Thon FIC: Lost and Found at Bluehill Title: Lost and Found at Bluehill Author:draconic_girl Other pairings/threesome: mentions of past Harry/George Rating: PG-13 Word count: ~ 5100 Warning(s): Nothing Prompt: Post-epilogue cliché: Harry and a presumed-dead Snape run into each other in a location outside Britain of your choice. Summary: A mystery leads Harry away from Britain... A/N: Ignores the epilogue, slightly AU when it comes to certain things revealed in DH. A most heartfelt thank you to my beta-reader and my two friends, you know who you are. =) This story would not be the same without your support and comments.
Lost and Found at Bluehill
Diagon Alley, April 2003
Sometimes, Harry thought, it was hard to believe that almost five years had passed since the final battle. Sometimes it felt like much more, yet there were also times when he woke up sweaty from a nightmare and it felt like it had all happened yesterday. He supposed that the fact that he had continued to hunt for the remaining Death Eaters and other criminals had done nothing to lessen the nightmares, but after the visions he had suffered because of Voldemort, regular nightmares did not feel half as bad.
He shook his head, as if that would drive away what was troubling him. It didn't, of course. Instead he was drawn back more firmly into the past, to the day when Kingsley had offered him a job. He still remembered the barely hidden surprise on Kingsley's face when he had taken him up on his offer without as much as a second's hesitation. Clearly Kingsley had thought he would need some persuasion, but he had been wrong about that, which showed that very few people were able to predict his actions accurately. Oh, they might think they had him figured out, but he only let them think so to keep them off his back. He was quite happy to keep certain things to himself and let people think they could read him like an open book at the same time.
Of course, Harry shuddered, there were some who did know him too well. Hermione for one; she was just too perceptive for her own good, which was probably why the Ministry had offered her a job as an Unspeakable. He smiled a bit; Hermione and Ron, they were still together and planned to get married soon, a midsummer wedding.
Ron, well Harry saw him at work every day. They had had their differences in the past, but there was no denying the fact that they worked well together. Of course they still argued sometimes, but it was not the same kind of rows as before; in fact, it seemed like they both had grown up in that respect. They were partners, and amongst the best Aurors the department had. Kingsley had certainly made the right choice when he let them work together, even if it had caused a stir when they first started. Particularly because of the fact that neither of them had gone back to Hogwarts, instead taking the accelerated program that allowed them to work as Aurors.
Now, though, Harry was on vacation. Vacation. The word felt scary and sort of odd. He had been working quite hard for the past four years, not taking off any extra time and now Kingsley had all but kicked him out, telling him to take a nice long vacation and that he was not to come back before May. When Harry had protested, Kingsley had simply told him that almost every Death Eater and their supporters had been questioned and dealt with and that they had other Aurors, who could deal with trouble. He had quite simply told Harry that he needn't be a hero all the time.
This had caused another outburst, which should have clued Harry in to the fact that he really did need a vacation because usually he had much better control of his temper. Instead he had asked why Kingsley wasn't including Ron in that comment. That had caused some unidentifiable emotion to appear on Kingsley's face as he looked at him and said, “Harry, it's been almost five years since the war ended. You have worked non-stop, the only people you see are your godson, the Weasleys or your colleagues. You haven't dated since that summer after the war. Ron, on the other hand, has taken his vacations and he is now on his way to be married. It's not him that I'm worried about.” And that was the emotion Harry hadn't been able to identify: worry. Kingsley was worried about him, and that was the only reason Harry agreed to go on an extended leave without further protests.
The problem, Harry thought as he looked around at the crowded Diagon Alley, was that he had no idea what to do. Then he caught sight of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and smiled. George was certainly someone who would have ideas for him, and maybe Harry could stay with him for a few days. They had become closer through the years, because when Harry wasn't working or spending time with Ron and the others, he could often be found with George. Maybe some would argue that he was still working then, because he had spent a lot of time helping George with his inventions and yes, Harry had even lived at George's for awhile. But then George had begun dating and Harry hadn't felt like crowding the place. He didn't think that George's boyfriend would appreciate the fact that Harry was living with George, especially considering how some of that time had been spent.
It had been tough for both of them after the war had ended, and somehow they had ended up spending their nights together. It hadn't been love, not in the way it was supposed to be, but they had both found comfort. They had never really talked about it that much, and when they'd stopped sleeping together Harry was still welcome at George's and at the WWW. In some ways, Harry mused, George was one of the few people that Harry really trusted, trusted with himself.
Smiling, he entered the shop, and a few hours later Harry found himself shaking snow off his clothes and knocking on a door hundreds of miles away from Britain. George had seen he was at loose ends and given him a mystery. A mystery for his vacation, in the form of a postcard, sent to George's boyfriend, signed R.A.B.
*****
Bluehill Inn, Finland - April
Harry was startled from his musing when the door opened. A woman greeted him with a wide smile, “Come in, come in, you must be Harry. I'm Frida Svarts”
“Good evening, Mrs Svarts.”
“Ah, none of that Mrs.-thing, it makes me feel a hundred years old. It's Frida,” Frida insisted with a smile. “Now, I suspect you want to unpack and freshen up before dinner? Dinner is served at 6 o'clock in the dining room over here,” Frida pointed as she led Harry toward the staircase. “Your room is the first one to the left when you get upstairs. I'd come up and show you, but I have to check on the food. Usually my daughter takes care of it, but she's away studying, international wizarding law.” Frida sounded proud, but also bemused, as if she couldn't quite believe it herself.
“I'm sure I can find it all right,” Harry said with a reassuring smile. “Are there any other people staying here at the moment?”
“A couple of families are here for the annual Easter celebrations, and then there are a couple of single wizards and witches, also here for Easter. You've chosen a good time to visit our village. How did you hear about this place anyway? I can't imagine many in Britain do.” Frida inquired, now seemingly in no hurry at all.
“A friend told me about it,” Harry said evasively. “If you don't mind me asking, how do you speak such good English?”
“Oh, thank you. I'm half Muggle so I studied languages at the university and wizarding culinary with a couple others here in the village. Thank god for Apparition! Made it possible for me to commute between here and there, but I guess I've settled down now. Inherited this place and made it a home for me and Regulus. I don't need to run around the world like I used to.” There was a wistful smile on her face as she spoke. “Anyhow, enough about that, now I really must hurry. Magic can only do so much in the kitchen.”
Harry perked up at the mention of Regulus; maybe there was something to the postcard after all.
*****
A few moments later, Harry had unpacked and he was just on his way towards the dining hall. It was almost six o'clock and he was definitely ready for food. He had his foot on the first stair when he heard a voice that froze him in his place-
“Is your husband here?”
It sounded just like him. But it couldn't be... could it?
“No, he's away on an assignment again; you know how it is,” Frida replied.
“Yes. Do you know when he's coming back?”
“He should be back late May or early June. Undercover mission,” Frida sighed tiredly.
“Do you need help with anything?”
Harry was touched by the deep concern in that voice. He had never heard him speak like that, but that did not rule out the possibility that it was him.
“Nothing beside the usual,” Frida replied and then she continued more quietly, “I'm a little low on the potion you make for my heart.”
Harry had to strain to hear what she said. He did not dare to cast magic because they might detect him.
“I know.” There was a sound of glass clinking together. “That's the other reason I came. I made you enough for two months, but I've since managed to improve the recipe, so that it will keep its potency for longer.”
“Thank you, Severus,” Frida said.
Up on the staircase, Harry's heart nearly stopped. It was him. Two dead men. Alive. What had he stumbled upon? He was feeling slightly dazed. What was this place? A hideout for Slytherins who had betrayed Voldemort? Or something of that like, because it could hardly be a coincidence that both Regulus and Snape turned up alive at the exact same time and place.
“You are welcome.” the sound of shuffling feet reached the staircase.
“Oh, don't go. You'll be all alone in your cabin, and don't scowl at me. I know you get lonely, because so do I. Stay for dinner, Severus. I've made all your favourites and there's blueberry pie for dessert...”
“Don't you have enough people to feed?” Snape grumbled in reply.
“One more mouth won't make a difference.” Harry could almost hear the smile that accompanied the words. Frida reminded him of Mrs. Weasley before the war. He waited until he heard Frida and Snape leave the room before he descended the stairs.
He took a deep breath before he entered the dining room. When he stepped over the threshold, he was instantly aware of the eyes on him. It was strange how familiar the stare felt. No matter how many people had stared at him during his life, he felt the difference of that stare, the half-scowl. He almost laughed at the bizarreness of the situation; five years had passed but Snape's scowl had not lost any of its sharpness, and it was hard to match this scowl with the man he heard talking just a few moments before, but then again, it was Snape.
Snape was a master spy, this was a fact that Harry had not fully appreciated until that fateful night years ago when he had watched Snape fall. At that moment, there had been no barriers between them, and Harry had been able to see why Snape had been so good at being a spy. It was because he was a perfect mix of all the houses at Hogwarts: he was brave as a Gryffindor, smart as a Ravenclaw, loyal as a Hufflepuff and sly as a Slytherin… now this did make Harry chuckle a bit to himself. Maybe Hermione had been right when she had told him that he should get over the hero worship he had for Snape. Of course, he had protested at that, but inwardly a part of him agreed with Hermione, though she was not completely right either, because sometimes he felt like he was the only one who really understood the scope of Snape's sacrifice and he did not want to forget that; he did not want to forget Snape. Yet, now when he was faced with the man himself, he stood hesitantly in the doorway, not sure what to do until Snape's voice reached him, whereupon just like years ago that scolding tone managed to bring him back from his reverie in an instant.
“Stop skulking in the doorway, Potter, and get over here.” Harry smiled at the scowl as he made his way to Snape's table, and to his further amusement that made Snape's scowl deepen. Some things never changed.
“You're alive,” Harry said when he sat down, and then he blushed. He hadn't meant to say that because, really, stating the obvious. What was it about Snape that made him blurt out the first thing on his mind? Was it the scowl, the imposing pose? He really could not tell.
“I can see why Kingsley promoted you to head Auror; your skills of observation are simply stunning,” Snape replied, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue as thick as acid.
“Wow, thanks. You've never called me stunning before,” Harry said in reply, secretly pleased that his brain seemed to be back online again.
Snape scowled. “Never mind, Potter.” Then he sighed. “Why are you here?”
“Vacation,” Harry replied.
“Vacation?” Snape echoed. “Why would you come here? In fact how do you even know of this place? There are few people in Britain who know of this place.”
Which Harry translated as: that's why I'm living here.
“A friend got a postcard from here, and it was signed by a dead man, and as you know, I never could resist a mystery.”
“Regulus, I presume?” Snape shook his head at Harry's nod. “I will never understand that man,” he muttered in a low voice. “So to whom was the letter addressed?”
“Someone we both know,” Harry replied.
“And that is supposed to narrow down the options?” Snape said scowling at Harry.
“George's boyfriend,” Harry added with a smirk. It was kind of fun to wind up Snape, especially now that he was a fully trained Auror. He wasn't as afraid as he used to be of ending up as potion ingredients or something equally dreadful. Snape could be quite creative when he wanted to punish someone... though, that was hardly something he wanted to think about right now. No, it was far better to focus on the man himself, especially with the way he was currently scowling at him.
“How helpful,” Snape snarked back. “Do you know how many people I caught those two…?” He quietened, and shared a look with Harry and for a moment they were both lost in memories. There were some things that nobody spoke of anymore.
“To the terrible two,” Harry said with a slight smile, raising his glass in tribute. He was pleased to see that Snape raised his glass too.
The moment was broken by the arrival of food; Frida smiled at them as she set the plates in front of them.
“Oh, you two know each other!” she said with a delighted smile. “Aren't you glad I asked you to stay, Severus?”
“Hmph.”
“Ah, don't give me that look, boy,” Frida said airily before she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
Harry chuckled a bit because Frida didn't look like she was much older than Snape. He didn't mind the fact that Snape scowled at him, because though Snape kept his face otherwise expressionless, Harry could see a hint of amusement in Snape's eyes. Four years of being an Auror, and many years before that battling Voldemort, were finally paying off. He cheered inwardly, but he was not sure if he was as successful at hiding his thoughts as Snape.
They ate in silence. The food was delicious and Harry thought it was kind of nice that he wasn't eating alone, even if Snape was being quiet for the moment. After they finished eating, it was Snape that spoke first.
“So what are you going to do? You're the Head Auror; are you going to report me to the Ministry?” He sounded somewhat resigned and Harry didn't like that one bit.
“Of course not,” Harry snapped out. “Why would I do that? You look like you found a place for yourself here, and that's more than I have.” Oh, damn. Harry sighed. He hadn't meant for that last bit to slip out.
Snape arched his eyebrow in response to Harry's outburst.
Harry shrugged. He really didn't know what to say.
“Perhaps we should continue this discussion in private,” Snape said, looking at the now crowded dining room.
“Your place?” Harry asked, because he was quite curious to see how Snape lived.
“If you wish,” Snape replied as he started towards the door. Harry was a bit slow to follow, but he quickly scrambled out of the chair when he heard Snape mutter something about nosy Gryffindors.
“I'm not nosy,” Harry said when he caught up with Snape.
“Oh, really?” Snape smirked. “Then why did you spy on me when I came to deliver Frida's potion?”
“You knew I was there?” Harry said disbelievingly.
Snape just arched his eyebrow in reply.
“Fine, fine, I admit it, you're still the master spy,” Harry muttered under his breath as he followed Snape. He swore he could see a smile tugging at Snape's lips. He shook his head, the world was truly a strange place and he felt a bit like he had stepped into an alternative universe.
After a few minutes' walk they reached Snape's cabin. It was built of logs and surrounded by trees, and it looked like it belonged in the forest. There was a lake nearby and Harry was struck by how idyllic it all looked. That's why the nice and cosy interior of the cabin should have come as no surprise to him when he stepped inside. He tried to mask his surprise by looking around the cabin, turning his back to Snape. This didn't fool Snape, and Harry heard him mutter something indistinct about Gryffindors and dungeons. He could imagine Snape rolling his eyes at him. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was predictable? Harry thought and smirked a bit before he turned to face Snape.
“Shall we sit down, then?” Snape asked, indicating the two comfy chairs before the stone fireplace.
“Sure,” Harry said and flopped down on one of the chairs. This time he saw Snape rolling his eyes at him as Snape himself settled down far more gracefully than he had.
“So how did you end up here?” Harry asked after a moment's silence.
“Regulus saved me,” Snape said.
“I'm presuming it's the same Regulus that prompted my visit here,” Harry replied.
“Yes,” Snape sighed. “He's becoming even more meddlesome as the years go by, soon he'll be worse than Albus. When I told him that, he promised that I was free to leave the day his eyes started twinkling.”
“Oh?” Harry said surprised at Snape's revelation.
“Of course that means I could have left as soon as I was well enough,” Snape continued.
“But you didn't,” Harry said quietly.
“No,” Snape replied.
“Why?”
“Where would I have gone?” Snape turned away before he continued, “At first, I was a stranger in this place, but after some time passed and I took up brewing potions again, the word slowly got around, and soon I was a productive member of the local community.”
“Who do they think you are?” Harry leaned in, curiosity overwhelming him.
“Regulus' cousin, so I'm known as Severus Svarts,” he scowled at the name, “Regulus changed his name when he came to live here, but he still signs his correspondence to some people with his old initials.” Then he seemed to realise something. “Potter, do you mean George is dating Draco?”
At Harry's nod, Snape shook his head. “The world must be ending.”
Harry chuckled at that, which made Snape growl at him, but he managed to stop and motioned Snape to continue his explanation.
“Well, they think a snake attacked me when I was collecting potions ingredients. Of course the Ministry here knows who I am, but Regulus has done a lot of work for them during his years here, so they let me stay. Officially of course, they don't know about me.”
“How long has Regulus been here, and did you know he was alive?” Harry inquired curiously.
“He's been here since the day he disappeared from Britain; he had made some contacts with the people from Bluehill Institute. It's not that far from here, the same place where he took me; they have some of the best healers working for them. It's an amazing place,” there was a note of wonder in Snape's voice, “and, as for knowing that he was alive, well, he'd contacted me a couple of times after Voldemort was first vanquished, but when the Dark Lord returned the communication stopped for awhile. Now, of course, I know that he did return to Britain for awhile, to snoop around. His words, not mine. I don't know what his official mission was, but I suppose I should be grateful that he found me that night.”
“Well, I'm grateful he did,” Harry said quietly. “Do you think I will get the chance to meet him?”
“You heard what Frida said. She doesn't know when he's coming back,” Snape replied.
“Does he go on missions often?”
“Not that often, but he tends to take longer missions, instead of many short ones. He has been a bit of a workaholic too, because of Voldemort.” Snape paused for a moment, then he added, “Though, I think he's thinking about retiring from fieldwork.”
“Well, I hope I will meet him someday,” Harry replied.
They spent the rest of the evening talking about Bluehill and Harry's work. To Harry's surprise it was close to midnight when he left the cabin.
*****
Harry had spent the week just relaxing and getting to know the area in which Bluehill Inn was situated. Frida had told him a lot about the area and how it had come to be a place for witches and wizards who wanted to spend their vacations surrounded by nature. During his time exploring the village he had met up with some interesting people, but none that had intrigued him as much as Snape had that first night; even if the village seemed to attract eccentric loners, there was no one quite like Snape.
He hadn't seen Snape since that first night. Snape had apparently chosen to stay away from the inn, now that he knew that Harry was staying there. It was not that they had parted in a particularly bad way; in fact they had parted on rather amicable terms, considering their past. Tonight though, Harry had decided he would visit the man. He was getting rather bored, now that he had explored most of the village.
Snape greeted him with a, “Oh, it's you,” but he let Harry step inside without further comment. They sat down around the fireplace again, although this time Snape offered Harry tea and biscuits, and they spent the evening talking.
After that, Harry became a frequent visitor to the cabin. Sometimes he and Snape just sat beside the fireplace and chatted, but sometimes Snape was busy brewing potions. Then Harry would spend his time alternatively helping or annoying Snape. The bantering back and forth proved to be surprisingly fun.
*****
It was the last night before Harry was to return home to Britain. Except Snape's cabin had come to feel more like home than his apartment in London. Spending time with Snape had been interesting. Sometimes they had talked about serious matters, like the war, while other times they simply talked about anything that came to mind. The discussions hadn't always ended very peacefully, because they were both good at annoying each other, but all in all they had gotten along surprisingly well, and Snape had only tossed Harry out a couple of times. And those times, Harry thought, he had pretty much earned it, because he really should have been more careful around Snape's potions.
Harry was brought back from his reverie when Snape appeared from the kitchen with the tea. When Snape had settled down he turned to Harry,
“So have you thought about why George gave you that postcard?”
“Not after I met you,” Harry replied.
“You noticed it then,” Snape said, leaning back in his chair.
“Pretty hard to miss,” Harry said and got up from the chair, walking the few steps that separated him from the painting hanging by the fireplace. The painting showed Snape's cabin, and if you looked closely you could see someone standing by the window, brewing potions.
“It's beautiful.”
“It is. Regulus' daughter painted it. She gave it to me as a thank you gift for healing her eyes, and all I did was brew a potion for her,” Snape replied.
“Oh, is that the same girl who went to study law?” Harry asked surprised.
“Yes.” Snape looked a bit amused at that. “She is quite determined to not fit into any categories.”
“Must be the Black in her,” Harry said thinking of Tonks and Sirius.
“Maybe,” Snape agreed. After a moment's pause he continued, “Speaking of Blacks, how on earth did my godson end up together with a Weasley?”
“Well…” Harry drawled out, surprised that Snape hadn't asked him about it before, “It all started when Draco had to work somewhere 'respectable' as a part of his parole." Harry smirked a bit at that, remembering how many changes Kingsley had brought about to the system, and how shocked certain people had been by them.
“You call the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes respectable?”
“It's run by war-heroes! What more can you ask?” Harry said with a shrug.
“In plural?” Snape inquired.
“Well, everyone who has worked there has been in some way connected to the DA, and nowadays my contribution to the store is no longer a secret. Kind of hard to keep a secret when I spent so much time there when I wasn't working. Even lived there with George for awhile after the war ended.” Harry smiled a bit, reflecting on that time. It had been the best and worst time of his life; for every moment spent dealing with the grief of all their losses, there had been moments of togetherness, the kind of togetherness he had never before experienced.
“You and George?” Snape asked unusually hesitantly.
“Well…” Harry said uncertainly.
“Never mind,” Snape muttered.
Harry thought he sounded a bit disappointed, so he steeled himself and explained,
“We were together for a while, but I guess we both knew we were better off as friends, and I moved out when he and Draco started seeing each other. Mind you, it wasn't that simple. It all started with an explosion and a hair-dye potion…”
“The world is a strange place,” Snape said after Harry had finished telling him about George and Draco. “To think that a Malfoy and a Weasley are living together,” Snape shook his head in wonder. “But I guess the world is changing. There's a new generation, which I hope doesn't repeat our mistakes. Salazar knows we made too many in our time - our choices split our world - almost destroying it.”
Harry was struck by how resigned Snape sounded. He leaned forward in his chair, close enough to touch him, resting his hand on Snape's shoulder and looking him in the eyes. “But some of you worked very hard to make a difference,” Harry said softly as he met Snape's intense stare. He hesitated a moment before adding, “and you did, make a difference.” Then he kissed Snape softly on the lips. Afterwards he leaned back a bit but he didn't move away.
“Why?” Snape asked. He truly looked like he couldn't believe what had happened.
“I guess there was more than hero-worship going on,” Harry said, ducking his head when he felt the heat of blush rising on his cheeks.
“Hero-worship, Potter?” But there was hardly any of the acid Harry had become accustomed to in Snape's voice when he said 'Potter'.
“That's what Hermione calls it, and I don't want to know what Ron thinks,” Harry said. After a moment's pause he added, “but I guess George knew it for what it was, and is. It's a bit strange really, how perceptive he has gotten.”
“He always was,” Snape said quietly, “he just never showed that side of himself to anyone but his brother. That's why they were so brilliant with their pranks.”
“You're admitting it now?”
“Well,” Snape drawled, “I'm not teaching anymore and I don't have to deal with the outcome, so I guess it does no harm if I admit that yes, they were brilliant at what they did.”
“Can I kiss you again?” Harry asked.
“As I seem to recall you did not ask for permission before-” and that's how far Snape got before Harry's lips covered his. They kissed for a long while, only stopping for air when they needed to.
When the clock chimed for midnight Harry broke the kiss and asked, “Can I stay?”
“You may.”
The soft-spoken reply made Harry's smile widen, and he felt light-headed when he followed Snape into the bedroom.
“Are you going to leave tomorrow morning?” Snape asked when they had switched the light off.
“Yes, but I'm coming back. This place seems to have all the things I've been looking for,” Harry replied looking at Snape. Snape might have switched the light off, but Harry could still see his face quite clearly because of the moonlight. He smiled a bit at the surprised look on Snape's face.
“Oh,” Snape said quietly.
“You thought I was just doing this because it's my last night here,” Harry said.
“Perhaps,” Snape admitted.
“Slytherins,” Harry said with a sigh. “What do I have to do to make you believe me when I say that I'm coming back?”
“Perhaps,” Snape paused for a moment before he continued, “I will just have to have some more faith in Gryffindors.”
“Better be just me,” Harry said with a smile.
“No, I have a harem of Gryffindors pining for me,” Snape said as seriously as he could.
They both chuckled at that, but the laughter soon gave way to kisses, and hands exploring new territory. When it was over, Harry burrowed closer to Snape, sighing contently. Falling asleep with a man he had thought was forever lost to him, was the best feeling in the world. He might have come to Bluehill to find the answer to the mystery that was R.A.B, but instead he had ended up finding so much more, and for that he was grateful. He had finally found happiness and something that felt much more like love than he had ever experienced before.
-end-
Trivia: Bluehill is a fictional place in Finland, especially created for this story. In my mind it's located somewhere along the west coast of Finland. The reason for why I chose this particular name is that according to folk tradition “blåkulla” is associated with witches. “Blåkulla” is the Swedish word and I have literally translated into Bluehill. The Finnish word is quite different: Kyöpelinvuori.
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